EP

[livinginmyglass]

It is high time, Viola realizes, she stops loitering in Milliways and gets back to Illyria. One sign that she has lingered too long: her hair has gotten too long. Not too long for the sake of her disguise-- indeed, many of the gentlemen of Orsino's court prefer theirs long-- but distinctly longer than it was when she left.

So now she may be found sitting at a table in the bar, a bowl and a pair of scissors in front of her. She looks less than confident in how to proceed.

Comments

[never_promised]

...Huh.

Hal comes down for a meal not long after, and--helper that he is--spends a good long while leaning in the doorway and watching this situation.

Go on, Viola!

[livinginmyglass]

At some point, she goes to the bar and retrieves a pair of mirrors, and in her efforts to arrange them so that she can somehow see the back of her head, she spots him there.

"--good morrow, sir."

[never_promised]

"Good morrow, Cesario!" He gives a little wave, and only then detaches himself from the wall to stroll over. "Thou hast some great matter in hand? Some philosophical experiment, calling for these glasses and shears and other rare tools of a learned trade?"

or a haircut?

[livinginmyglass]

"I have too long lingered here, and my head doth bear the proof." She sets the scissors down, the mirror. "Yet I cannot return to Illyria, where time has stood still, and bear the signs of months of idleness upon me. And so I must see it-- reduced, to its former state."

'Reduced' does seem somewhat more accurate than 'shortened'-- her hair is very curly, and seems to have grown outwards as much as downwards.

[never_promised]

"Ah." Harry considers the situation gravely. "And thou art so sufficient unto thyself that thou'lt do all the work unaided?"

(He hopes Viola appreciates his remarkable self-control: he hasn't reached out to tug on even one curl.) (Neither has he jumped right to asking how soon she means to return to Illyria and for how long.)

[livinginmyglass]

Remarkable restraint! He deserves a medal.

"I thought I would," she says dubiously. "But like many a manly coward, when put to the proof, I find my spirits shrink."

[never_promised]

"O, hadst thou but another pair of hands at thy service, another pair of eyes..."

[livinginmyglass]

She sighs. "O, indeed! But no friends in the world have I."

[never_promised]

"Alas for poor Cesario!"

Oh, all right. He won't make her ask. "Wouldst have my help? I am no hair-dresser, but it cannot be so great a challenge, fools do it every day."

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel doesn't really need an excuse to be in the Bar, but if anyone asks, he's now going to claim that he was drawn by the siren call of bladed objects in the hands of the clearly unprepared. He notes the scissors, the bowl, and the look of doubt, and leaps for the unlikely but interesting conclusion.

"Have I come in time to see dark sorcery, and this your bowl to hold offerings to the spirits?"

Which is to say Hi! He's dressed this time! Very much so. You're welcome, Viola.

[livinginmyglass]

"Just so," she agrees solemnly. "It is an enchantment I have been assured will see me grow a fine beard."

[clayforthedevil]

"Oh, then this I have to see, to take news back to my sadly beardless brothers, now fated to be so eternally, unless such intervention can be discovered. Death intervenes very rudely in certain expectations. But why doubt visitors from unknown lands having unknown magic? I've seen less likely spells, since coming here!"

Yeah, he's just gonna sit down uninvited, like he would with any guy. And make a very obvious show of watching for the ceremonial Beard Magic.

[livinginmyglass]

"I am glad indeed you are so eager," she says. "For you have just the ingredient that I lack. I will require your beard, sir, to see the charm complete."

[clayforthedevil]

"Ah, that makes sense! A dead man's living beard sounds exactly the thing for a spell.--Though I point out that it would not suit you, the color's wrong."

He's got the scissors, and he isn't acting at all unsure how to use them.

[livinginmyglass]

"What color would suit me, think you?" she asks, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "My hair is not so very much fairer than yours."

[clayforthedevil]

Serious questions! This is his serious pondering face, definitely. "Not so much fairer! But yours has a shade of red in it; do not easily give that up!" He waves the scissors about carelessly in chiding. "But perhaps you mean to tint that in the spell too. As I recall from my studies, these arts call for blood often enough to dye a beard or fifty."

[livinginmyglass]

She lifts her brows. "Your studies! Are you a sorcerer, sir?"

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Hey, it's that guy! The one from Illyria and Messaline, whose androgynous youthful prettiness Enjolras has a certain silent sympathy for.

Who is... sitting around with a bowl and a pair of scissors? Sure, Cesario, if you want to.

Anyway, Enjolras gives 'him' a small smile of greeting, and the kind of inquiring look that means shall I wander over that way or are you intent upon whatever you're doing?

[livinginmyglass]

IT'S THAT GIRL

Okay, Viola doesn't actually know she's a girl, but she's feeling pretty confident about her guess. And wouldn't she, of all people, be able to tell?

"Why, sir!" she calls eagerly. "How do you do?"

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Definitely! Viola's canon is not at all one that sets her up for drawing confidently wrong conclusions! And neither she nor Enjolras have any blind spots at all here!

Relatedly, Enjolras amiably turns his steps towards Cesario's table. "Fine, and thee, Cesario?"

[livinginmyglass]

"Very well, sir," she replies. She gestures to the chair opposite: want to sit? "I must soon return to the world beyond this place, but my idleness is by my hair betrayed-- unless I may hope my companions will believe a man may pass through a door one moment, and return the next looking many weeks the curlier."

She adds, a touch carefully, "In my youth, I wore it long-- as indeed, many youths do!-- and it never then did seem to grow so fast!"

What about you, Enjolras? Did you ever at any point in your youth, say, have really long hair for some reason?

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Sure, he'll sit.

And... huh. Yeah, that would be a problem, if you were living, wouldn't it? He hopes Cesario has at least some friends he can trust with something as huge as Milliways -- though it may not be the case -- but still, there are always other observers too.

He grimaces wry sympathy. "I'm prone to forgetting about mine entirely. Then I find it's suddenly in my eyes, or a friend complains of its untidiness. If it grew slower or faster when I was young, I don't remember."

Is that a thing with kids? It could be! Combeferre and Joly probably know.

(How long has it been since his hair actually grew? Here in this strange afterlife, it doesn't really. He remembers this strangeness periodically; it's something to muse on in private, though, and not in the middle of conversation.)

[livinginmyglass]

...right, that wasn't a very clear answer. Evidently (s)he doesn't share Viola's secret pleasure in dropping small hints.

"In truth, I think if I were to leave it as 'tis-- even if any should notice, why-- they would find some reason for it. It is often so, do you not find? That things strange are oft overlooked, so ready are our eyes to see only what they expect?"

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Enjolras's sense of whimsy is sadly deficient, it's true.

"Very often," he agrees.

"But not always. One can't count on it in every case. Still, by and large, yes. And especially in such a case as this, where the truth is so unlikely."

[livinginmyglass]

"It is very true!" Now they're getting somewhere! "Do but think how many unlikely things do parade themselves in the open, safe in the knowledge that the truth would be thought mere fantasy."